Deja Vu
by ShadowOfApate
Summary: ER/Bond Crossover. Weaver may not be what she seems...
1. Default Chapter Title

  
  
Title: Deja Vu  
Parts: 1/2  
Rating: R. For Bond violence, some drinking, and insenuations.  
Pairings: Bond/Weaver  
Fandom: ER/Bond crossover  
  
Notes: I know the title isn't very Bondish, but deal with it. *G*  
Thanks to Scotty Welles who's been so patient with Beta Reading for me.   
  
Disclaimer: Bond belongs to Ian Fleming, and ER belongs to Warner Bros. I'm only   
borrowing them for entertainment purposes such as it is.  
  
  
  
The caged elevator opened onto the steel jungle high-rise, an  
unfinished structure that stood quietly under the darkened soviet sky.  
The construction workers had left their tools scattered carelessly  
along the steel-beamed puzzle that comprised the only floor, twenty  
stories of air surrounding each of them.   
  
The short, slim shadow covered in skintight black fatigues stepped out  
onto the beam, quickly making her way from beam to beam, leaping across  
the three feet to the wood that had been set up by the workers.   
  
A soft thump echoed through the structure, and she drew her compact  
Heckler & Koch automatic, staring into the dark recesses for the cause  
of sound. The minute seemed to tick on forever, until she finally  
reholstered her weapon and moved through the plastic curtains  
surrounding the half-finished room.  
  
The moon's rays beamed directly onto the crates of weapons and the long  
box containing the missing KGB computer.  
  
Dropping her backpack to the planking, she attached the round mine to  
the box before starting on the crates. Each mine snapped on easily,  
blinking an angry red. Picking up the last mine, she prepared to arm  
it…  
  
…and froze as the terrorist camp below came alive with hoots and  
whistles. The sound of a gunshot rang out, followed by laughter.  
  
She slammed the mine into place, running across the platform and beams  
to the waiting elevator. The elevator started to descend as she stared  
out at the camp numbly, her thoughts racing. If the camp was alerted,  
then 002 must have failed, which meant the experimental flash missiles  
were still ready to launch.  
  
The elevator creaked to a halt on the ground, letting her out into the  
cold winter night. She paused in the shadows as she set the remote for  
the mines on a thirty-second countdown. Then, slipping out of the  
building, she made a run for the large command center.   
  
Glancing into the window, she could see Greg's bloodied body laying  
broken next to the spot where the two crates had been. She cursed  
silently as she saw the large military truck that they had just  
finished loading with the two missiles. Two of the men climbed into the  
front of it as it roared to life.  
  
A spray of bullets flew by as she sprinted for the back of the truck.   
Sentries had spotted her, dammit! Her shoulder jerked painfully as she  
dived up on the covered back, and she was barely able to hoist herself  
up.  
  
Ignoring the flow of blood, she forced herself to stand up…and found  
herself staring into the eyes of Brodsky, Feral's personal bodyguard.   
  
The brick-built man lunged at her with deadly speed as she dropped into  
a leg sweep and slammed her commando knife into the back of his right  
lung. He let out a surprised gurgle and died.  
  
Behind her, the half-built structure lit the sky up as the mines went  
off. The entire thing crumbed in on itself with a colossal roar, and  
the truck jerked under the sudden bombardment of shrapnel.  
  
She wiped the blade off on Brodsky's shirt with satisfaction, then  
turned to the first crate. The lid was already pried open, 002's  
favorite knife laid on the missile. He'd come so close to completing  
the mission. How had Brodsky gotten the drop on him?  
  
The missiles' abort button stared up at her with dark barring. Pressing  
it would destroy the missiles and most likely spare thousands of  
innocent lives. But it was meant to be pressed while the missiles were  
in flight, not sitting in a crate right next to the console.   
  
If she pushed the button, her life would be over, but if she didn't...  
  
No, she knew she had no choice. The thought of mission failure was  
unacceptable, thousands of innocent lives could be at stake. And she  
was sworn to die in the line of duty, if it came to that.  
  
Reaching in decisively, she pushed the abort button, then spun and  
leaped desperately out the rear of the truck.  
  
The fiery blast caught her in midair, wrapping around her and twisting  
her for its own deadly purpose. Her singed, twisted, unconscious body  
hit the ground, rolling down the steep embankment.   
  
Coming to a stop against an ice-covered log, the black cap she was  
wearing fell from her head, exposing the short shock of red hair...  
  
  
  
The dark man with the cruel features stepped out of the shadows,  
staring with satisfaction at the distant hill where the truck had  
exploded.   
  
The blood-covered agent walking up beside him. "She's dead..."   
  
Jared Feral turned to Greg with pride. "Take the spare missile to the  
pad." Then, as Greg started for the truck, Jared added, "Greg…good  
job."  
  
Greg smiled darkly at him. "I'll see you in Moscow…father."  
  
  
  
James walked into the hospital briskly. All he wanted to do was to get  
his fiancee home. She was back from her mission in Russia, and despite  
the urgent phone call, he was sure that her injuries were minor. He'd  
seen her through too many missions not to know how this worked.   
Besides, M had promised them a few days off with no interruptions, and  
she wouldn't do anything that might cost them that time together.   
  
He winced slightly at the soreness of his body. His own mission to  
Germany had prevented him accompanying the woman he loved to Russia,  
but she'd had a perfectly competent partner in 002. At any rate, a  
couple of days in bed together was just what the doctor ordered.   
  
Still, there was this small twinge of doubt that had been bothering him  
since he received the phone call. He'd never had this problem before,  
not when she had nearly died after being caught inside that Vietnamese  
nuclear sub, or when she'd been trapped inside enemy lines for almost a  
month. She'd been through nearly as many scrapes as he had, kindred  
spirits that they were.  
  
He paused inside the door as he saw Moneypenny's red eyes and M's  
solemn face. His doubt turning to full-fledged worry and rage. "No..."   
  
  
  
12 Years Later  
  
  
  
Kerry gripped her crutch in frustration. Days like this were when she  
most strongly missed the ability to walk without it. When everyone  
seemed to be against her, even the people who were supposedly her  
friends.   
  
Not when she was being forced to attend the Triaxe banquet made up of  
every doctor in Chicago. The last thing she wanted was to spend the  
night listening to boring speeches with a table of her colleagues. Of  
course she could always call up and say that her leg wasn't able to  
handle it. Then again, Romano would call her on it.   
  
Kerry pushed her door open, her sixth sense going off like an alarm.  
Something was wrong; the kitchen light was on inside her darkened  
house, and she could hear someone moving around.   
  
She quietly shut her door, lowering her files and shoulder bag to the  
floor, and made her way silently toward the kitchen doorway.   
  
A lean man was standing in the doorway, his face covered by shadows.   
"Ker..."   
  
Kerry didn't give the lean man a chance to finish speaking; her body  
acted on instinct alone. She jerked her right forearm upward sharply,  
bringing the crutch up between his legs. He doubled over, and she  
seized his collar in her left hand and spun him around to drive him  
into the wall. The groaning man tried to turn around, but she chopped  
her hand on the back of his neck, sending him to the floor.  
  
"Well at least...you're...still in shape."   
  
Kerry froze, recognizing the gasping voice. Snapping on the living room  
light, she glanced down in shock at the man who was struggling to his  
feet.   
  
He collapsed into a nearby chair, grimacing at the pain. "You know,  
there are more pleasurable, and less painful, ways of hitting on me."  
James straightened his tie with effort, trying not to show how badly  
she'd hurt him.  
  
"Oh? And here I thought you liked it rough." She shook her head,  
marvelling that the last person in the world she wanted to see right  
now had just re-entered her life. Turning her stony gaze on him, she  
demanded, "You mind telling me what you're doing in my house?"  
  
"Simple," he replied, regaining a measure of his characteristic  
composure, "M sent me. She wants to see you immediately."   
  
"You're kidding! After all these years out of the life, she expects me  
to just…?" Kerry broke off, at a loss for words.  
  
James stood up on unsteady legs, meeting her scowl head on. "Kerry, all  
you have to do is listen. If you won't help after you've been briefed  
than you can walk out and you'll never have to see me again."   
  
There was no use in arguing with a summons, Kerry realized. Even now.   
"Fine, let's get this over with." She spun, acting like she didn't  
notice the hurt look on his face. 'Will this day never end?' she  
thought with despair.   
  
  
  
Kerry sat quietly in the deep leather chair, trying to hide her  
excitement. She had forgotten how much she missed this. The missions,  
the danger...James.   
  
He took a seat next to her, reaching for her hand. Kerry stared at him  
in surprise as he stammered slightly and let go. "Sorry, old habits die  
hard."  
  
"If you two don't mind I'd like to get started," came the cold,  
familiar voice.  
  
Kerry glared at M's sarcasm, but said nothing.   
  
"What do you know about Dr. Matthew Lawson?"  
  
Aha. Kerry began to see why they wanted her help. "He's the head of  
Triaxe, a privately owned research center. It's said that the guy is a  
genius, but he gets bored easily." Kerry took the file Moneypenny  
offered her and scanned it as M started to talk.  
  
"The CIA has had him under surveillance for the last six months. They  
think he's been working on a smart virus, one that can be programmed to  
target people based on race, DNA markers, hair color, whatever he feels  
like. They believe he's going to have a auction for the world's  
terrorist community."   
  
"What aren't you saying?" Kerry knew M well enough to recognize that  
dull glint in her eyes. The one that meant there was serious trouble  
but she didn't want to tell what it was.  
  
"About a month ago, the blueprints for an American missile were  
stolen." M smiled slightly, glad that Kerry's instincts hadn't dulled  
over the years.  
  
"What's so important about this missile?" Kerry glanced over at Q  
expectantly as the older man leaned against the desk to speak.  
  
"Do you remember the Soviet flash?" He winced inwardly at his own  
insensitivity as everyone seemed to become deathly solemn. "Ah, yes, of  
course you would. Well, anyhow, it's the American version with some  
slight improvements. Including the ability to store chemical weapons."  
  
Kerry snapped her eyes around to James, questioningly. "He's going to  
bid it off with the virus?"   
  
The slight nod from James confirmed her guess.   
  
Slumping back, she faced the fact that she had no choice but to help  
them. "What do you need from me?"  
  
"Dr. Lawson will be hosting the Triaxe banquet tonight. You'll take  
James as your date so that he can get upstairs to his office, and  
reclaim the blue prints," M said quietly. "I trust I needn't remind you  
that, despite the last twelve years, you are still on our payroll…?"  
  
Kerry eyed her for a long minute, then nodded consent.  
  
M laid a hand on her arm as she stood to leave. "Kerry…I was hoping we  
could have dinner tomorrow."   
  
"All right," she replied quietly. "Why don't you come over around  
6:00?" It had been over a year since the last time she'd seen her  
adoptive mother, and despite the memories, she'd missed her.   
  
M relaxed, smiling at her with relief. The last 12 years had been  
stressful for both of them.  
  
Kerry followed James out of the old warehouse that they'd turned into a  
makeshift office. She paused next to the sleek black BMW convertible.  
"Is this the new model?"  
  
"All the standard options, plus stealth mode." James smirked at the  
look in Kerry's eyes. Like a child on Christmas morning. He dangled the  
keys in front of her face teasingly, "Want to drive?"  
  
  
  
Kerry grinned happily as she speed up and spun into the Triaxe parking  
lot. The dashboard read fifty as she sped through the lines of cars,  
approaching the parking section designated for County General. She  
spotted a parking space beside Mark's Jeep Cherokee and spun the car  
into the space, screeching to a halt while the engine roared loudly  
before cutting off.  
  
"They say you can tell what a woman's like in bed by how she drives,"  
her passenger commented idly.  
  
Kerry slammed the door closed and took James' arm. She felt a small  
amount of pleasure as his eyes roamed her body. "Well, this old car is  
parked and off limits," she said softly as they entered the building  
and headed for the lecture hall.   
  
"Too bad. The vintage cars are the most reliable and definitely the  
most fun."   
  
Kerry met his sad eyes. After the accident he had protested her calling  
off the engagement. He had gone into a rage over her stony refusal to  
budge, but she had believed that she needed to recover alone, and not  
just physically.  
  
"Hey chief, over here!" a cocky, familiar voice called.  
  
Kerry started for the table where everyone was already sitting. Carter  
and Malucci had already started drinking, but Carol hadn't touched her  
white wine yet. Jing-Mei and Cleo appeared to be drinking iced tea.  
  
Dave eyed her date with obvious disapproval as the women around him  
started to take notice of the lean, handsome man. He couldn't help  
resenting the way the world seemed to reform around the new arrival.   
"Who's the guy?" he asked, his tone bordering on the rude.  
  
James held Kerry's chair out for her before sitting possessively next  
to her, taking her hand. "My name is Bond, James Bond," he replied  
suavely, then paused before adding, "Kerry's fiancee." He ignored the  
silent challenge in Dave's stare, aware the younger man's need to be in  
the spotlight, but refusing to acknowledge it.  
  
"EX-fiancee." Kerry stared levelly at him, daring him to contradict  
her.   
  
"That's right, but I asked you again last night," James said sweetly,  
flashing her a smile to show that he wasn't about to give up this  
opportunity.  
  
"And I said that I needed to think about it." Kerry felt him caress the  
inside of her hand tenderly, and was tempted to just give in. But she  
had a feeling that if she did that he would take that as a sign that  
she wanted to get back together. Not that she wasn't tempted...very  
tempted.  
  
Carter cut into whatever James was about to say. "You were engaged  
before?" He was surprised that he'd never heard her mention this while  
he lived in her house.  
  
"12 years ago," James said truthfully before turning to Kerry, "I'll be  
right back." He kissed her hand and left with only a quick nod to the  
others at the table.   
  
"Why did you two call it off?" Carol asked. Her unspoken meaning, of  
course, was 'why in the world did you let HIM get away?!'  
  
Kerry glared at his retreating back, considering what forms of torture  
would be the most painful.  
  
  
  
He slid his hands under the bookshelf until he felt the small bump.  
Chuckling at the ease of it, he pressed it watching the small square of  
floor by the desk open. The keypad of the black iron safe blinked up  
at him tauntingly.   
  
James placed the small penlight between his teeth, taking a small card  
from his pocket and reading it as he punched in the sequence. The red  
light stayed on with a soft hum, then turned green as the door of the  
safe popped open.   
  
James flashed the small light into the safe, his ego deflating rapidly.  
The only thing in the safe was a small piece of paper. He picked it up,  
"Mr. MacAlister, I've moved everything until the auction."   
  
James threw the paper into the safe with disgust. There was only one  
other safe that they knew about, and the blueprints could be anywhere  
by now.  
  
  
  
"Girl, you must have been crazy to break it off with that man," Cleo  
said with the slightest tilt of her brow.  
  
"Now wait," Carol replied, "how do we know she broke it off? Maybe he  
left her. It's been known to happen." It had happened to her, after  
all.  
  
"Ahh, he's probably gay," Dave added with a sneer. "The fancy-dressed  
english types always are."  
  
Jing-Mei scowled at him. "That is the worst case of sour grapes I've  
ever heard."  
  
Kerry sat back, watching the group talk enthusiastically about her like  
she wasn't even there. They kept throwing theories about her life at  
each other not even bothering to acknowledge her. The only one who  
seemed to remember her was Carter, who smiled at her with apologetic  
amusement. She knew he wanted to know about her former engagement as  
much as any of them, but he had the courtesy to respect her privacy.   
She'd always appreciated that about him.  
  
"I need to talk to you."   
  
Kerry glanced up at James wearily, frowning slightly at the solemn  
expression in his eyes. She followed him over to the wall as he began  
to speak softly.   
  
"He moved them, and the only other safe we know about is in his house."  
  
"You going to try to get in?" Kerry asked.  
  
"No. We've already had two other agents try to get in without success.  
He's got more security than the President, and we don't even know where  
in the house the safe is." James glared over at Dr. Lawson with subtle  
resentment.   
  
"I guess there's only one option left then..." Kerry told him softly.   
Then, without warning, she punched James in the face hard enough to  
rock him back into the wall, and raised her voice. "WHY DON'T YOU JUST  
GO BACK TO ENGLAND WHERE YOU BELONG?!" she yelled, gaining everyone's  
attention – she could see Dr. Lawson staring at her – and stormed out  
of the lecture hall.  
  
"Dr....Weaver?"   
  
Kerry slowed, allowing Dr. Lawson to catch up with her. "What?" she  
snapped angrily, balling her fist threateningly.  
  
He held up his hands in surrender. "I just wanted to make sure you were  
all right."  
  
"Fine." Kerry started to walk out of the building.   
  
Dr. Lawson fell into step beside her.  
  
"Then why did you punch that guy?" He was struggling against the urge  
to laugh. Dr. Weaver was famous for her temper, in fact that's the one  
of the first things he'd been warned about after coming to Chicago.   
  
"Bastard wanted me to give up my job. For him…?" Kerry threw her  
crutch scornfully into the BMW before acknowledging the tanned, dusty   
haired mans presence, her eyes pausing on the muscles that seemed to cause   
his armani to pull taunt across his chest. "Is here something you wanted?"  
  
"Not really..." He hadn't been so amused in a long time and hated to  
see her leave. "Listen, would you like to go get a drink?"  
  
"Aren't you the host of this..." Kerry struggled to find a word that  
wouldn't insult him too much. "... funeral?"  
  
"Yes, but they can survive without me for a couple of hours." He  
grinned widely at her. He liked women who spoke their mind no matter  
what the consequences were.   
  
"In that case, get in." Kerry started the car with a small smirk. She  
hadn't lost her touch after all.  
  
  
  
James ran out of the hotel at a sprint in time to see Kerry drive off  
with Dr. Lawson. "M's going to kill me..." Damn the woman, she was  
improvising again.  
  
"Where's Kerry?" said a voice beside him.  
  
James glanced over at Carter with a flash of jealousy. He was the guy  
that had been living with Kerry a few months back, and as far as James  
was concerned, the guy was an immature boy. "She decided to go for a  
ride."   
  
James clenched his jaw and walked back into the hotel. He needed to get  
hold of M before Kerry got herself killed.  
  
  
  
Kerry cracked her eyes open with some effort. She liked to think that  
she could drink almost anybody under the table, but the last few hours  
had proven to be a bit much. Vodka, whiskey, wine, tequila... not to  
mention the sleeping pills she'd slipped into Matthew's drink, only to  
get a mouthful of it herself.  
  
She swung her legs over the bed, letting the arm around her waist fall  
away. Kerry got dressed quickly under the blanket of her hangover.  
Struggling to keep herself in an upright position as she yanked the  
straps of her evening gown up.  
  
Scanning the room she tried to remember what he'd said before falling  
into a dreamless sleep. Something about hiding things in their normal  
place. Kerry went into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet  
only to find it bare.   
  
She gripped one of the shelves and pulled on it until it swung open  
revealing an old-fashioned wall safe. Kerry opened the cabinet drawers,  
searching for the stethoscope that she was sure had to be here. Every  
doctor she knew kept one close at hand, out of habit. She shoved her  
hand into the back of the second drawer, pausing as her fingers closed  
around the familiar rubber tubing.  
  
Kerry took a deep breath and started to work on the safe, trying to  
control the underlying excitement of being back in the game.   
  
  
  
James sat on the bed in loose slacks and an unbuttoned shirt nursing  
the glass of whiskey. It wasn't his traditional vodka martini (shaken,  
not stirred), but being involved with Kerry again, he felt the need for  
something harder.  
  
He couldn't get the memory of Kerry laying in the hospital looking so  
pale and deathly out of his mind. He could still remember when he'd  
received the phone call telling him that she had injured.  
  
He'd been in Germany, preparing to raid an army camp. The disk  
containing blue prints for one of England's nonexistent subs had been  
stolen by them. He had been on his way out of his hotel room when  
Moneypenny had called.   
  
When he'd finally arrived, the doctors had told him she would lose her  
leg. Kerry had been stony about it, refusing to let them amputate with  
a firm quietness that had left James scared. Something he'd never admit  
to anyone except Kerry.   
  
The last time he'd seen her before they'd taken her in would stay with  
him for the rest of his life. Her face normally full of life was drawn  
with pain and barely-contained fear. A body that was always overflowing  
with endless energy was lying helpless. He'd never, in his entire  
life, seen her like that. His partner, the woman he loved so deeply,  
never showed weakness or pain. He'd watched her take a gunshot wound to  
the stomach and still finish a mission with a brisk ease that had left  
him astonished.  
  
He'd paced the waiting room for hours, tense for news of her. M had  
tried to reassure him, but he was too angry to listen. Blaming himself  
for letting her go on the mission, blaming M for splitting them up for  
the so-called brief operation.   
  
He had realized at that moment that she had known that Russia had been  
a suicide mission. That's why she'd sent him on the recovery mission,  
to keep him alive. Kerry was a more acceptable loss in M's opinion.  
"How could you?!!"  
  
"It's the job." The same response, it was always the same response, the  
standard response. M stared at him with uncovered eyes. Letting him see  
the tortured haunted eyes underneath her placid cold mask. The same  
mask that he'd seen Kerry wear on so many occasions.  
  
"I don't care if it's the job. You sent her to her death and now she  
may lose her leg..." James had known that his anger was irrational, but  
he couldn't help it. All his emotions were running wild. Anger,  
sadness, worry...If he lost her he wasn't sure what he'd do.  
  
James hadn't been aware that he'd punched the wall until the sudden  
sharp pain shot through his arm and hand. Moneypenny had rested a  
comforting hand on his shoulder and guided him into a chair. The tears  
had come as he stared at his friend.   
  
James drained his glass and refilled it. Even after all these years,  
that day haunted him.   
  
The soft foot steps approaching door cut into his thoughts. Picking up  
his Walther, he carefully opened the door, already knowing who it was.   
  
Kerry entered the room with only a passing glance at the gun in his  
hand.   
  
James sat the gun on the dresser, and poured her a glass of vodka. "How  
was your field trip?" His fingers brushed Kerry's as he handed her the  
glass. James sat on the bed next to her, trying to hide how much that  
little contact had effected him.  
  
Kerry drained the glass in a single gulp, the night's stress finally   
getting to her. Grabbing the gym bag that she'd set out in the car  
earlier, she laid the blueprints and the vial of the virus on the  
nightstand.   
  
He pressed his lips together trying to hide his smile. She could've  
been killed.   
  
Kerry leaned into him, chuckling softly. "The safe was behind the   
medicine cabinet."  
  
"You had no business trying something like this, not when..." He  
stopped, feeling the tension run into his ex-lovers body.  
  
"When I'm a cripple?" Kerry asked bitterly.  
  
"When you've been retired for 12 years." James stared hard at her,   
trying to convince her that he was telling the truth. "Do you ever miss  
it...me?" James stared at her, needing to know. To put himself at ease,  
to finally let go of her and the past.   
  
"I miss...the nights...the nights in our flat. Our own little world  
where only we existed." Kerry leaned into him, needing to feel his  
presence.   
  
He was one of her deepest regrets. How she had ever walked away from  
him, she didn't know. James leaned over, brushing their lips together  
in question.   
  
Kerry stood up, trying to break all contact with him, and he grabbed  
her hand desperately. " Kerry, please...Don't push me away anymore."  
  
"Why?" Kerry asked quietly. All her fear and her hopes in that single  
question.  
  
"Because I still love you." James gently pulled Kerry to him, ready for  
some resistance.   
  
Her body seemed to crumble into his arms with years of emotional  
exhaustion, unable to keep fighting him or her feelings anymore.  
  



	2. Default Chapter Title

Title: Deja Vu   
Parts: 2/2   
Rating: R. For Bond violence, and language.   
Pairings: Bond/Weaver   
Fandom: ER/Bond crossover   
  
Notes: I know the title isn't very Bondish, but deal   
with it. *G*   
Thanks to Scotty Welles who's been so patient with Beta   
Reading for me.   
The guys an absolute saint. He's help on this was above   
and beyond the call   
of duty. In fact he's the only reason this turned out as   
well as it did.   
  
Disclaimer: Bond belongs to Ian Fleming, and ER belongs   
to Warner Bros. I'm only   
borrowing them for entertainment purposes such as it is.   
  
  
  
  
Kerry scanned the ER through bloodshot eyes for any   
sign of Romano. She   
was running almost thirty minutes late; of course the   
fact that she   
also had a pounding hangover didn't help any.   
  
"Kerry, so kind of you to show up this morning!"   
  
Kerry moaned at the booming voice that cut through her   
haze-filled   
head. "Not so loud..." she rasped, ignoring the   
satisfied look on   
Romano's face.   
  
"And hung over too? Do you really think that this is   
the kind of   
example you should setting for the others?" Romano   
stared daggers at   
her as he took note of how she was dressed. Faded khaki   
safari pants,   
worn hunting boats, and an old blue sweater. "Take   
those sunglasses off   
when I'm talking to you..."   
  
Kerry painfully took off her sunglasses, wincing as the   
light hit her   
unfiltered eyes. "Robert..." She stopped talking, her   
voice raw and   
hoarse barely above a whisper, clearing her throat   
forcefully. "...I   
was up all night trying to get the ER more funding."   
  
"And did you?" Romano raised his voice deliberately,   
causing Kerry to   
lean against the front desk in pain.   
  
She pushed her sunglasses back on, her mask falling   
into place. "I   
don't remember. I passed out somewhere between the   
bottle of whiskey   
and scotch." It wasn't exactly a lie. She had mentioned   
the hospitals   
funding, and she had zoned out briefly, but not just   
from the alcohol.   
  
  
Romano clenched his jaw. "I'll let it go this time,   
but don't let it   
happen again." He started to walk away, pausing as he   
said, "You did   
remember the staff meeting we're having today, didn't   
you?"   
  
Kerry tried to nod, but discovered that it was a bad   
idea.   
  
Acting like she didn't see the glints of gossip in the   
others eyes, she   
made her way into the lounge. Carol's presence dimly   
registered in her   
mind, "So what happened with you and Dr. Lawson?" the   
nurse inquired.   
  
"Enough," Kerry replied shortly. She didn't want to   
talk about last   
night. Which included Matthew and James. Her feelings   
were out of   
control and she wasn't sure what to do about James   
right now. They   
loved each other, but she was a prominent doctor now,   
and he was   
military intelligence. Then there was the thing with   
Matthew. He was   
being arrested at that very moment, and then everyone   
would be   
suspicious about the timing.   
  
"Was he any good?" Carol asked in a coy tone.   
  
Kerry slammed the locker in frustration, regretting it   
immediately.   
Leaning into the cool steel she wondered how she would   
make through the   
rest of the day.   
  
  
  
Bond kicked the study door one last time. The wood   
panels splintered   
and swung inward as James entered the sparsely   
decorated room in front   
of the two younger agents. He swept the silenced pistol   
left to right,   
its field of fire covering the room.   
  
The large heavy antique desk held his grim attention.   
  
Beth pressed to fingers against Lawson's neck. "He's   
dead."   
  
"Why would he kill himself?" James stared at the body,   
trying to find   
it's darkest secrets. The man was one of the world's   
leading minds,   
rich, and could have any woman he wanted. As far as   
they could tell Dr.   
Lawson hadn't discovered the virus or the blueprints   
missing yet.   
  
His eyes paused on the small scrap of paper peaking out   
from under the   
desk. James picked it up, recognizing the partial   
symbol on it with   
growing dread.   
  
The flood of memories and locked away emotions took   
control with a   
feeling of deja vu, driving him to race out of the   
house screaming out   
instructions at the agents.   
  
He should've seen it from the beginning, instead he'd   
played right into   
the bastards' hands.   
  
  
  
Kerry was grateful that she'd been able to sit in the   
back of the   
lecture room, away from Romano's thundering voice. She   
had taken four   
aspirin earlier and it didn't even touch her headache.   
  
"Still in pain?"   
  
Kerry glared over at John. He'd been enjoying her   
predicament all day.   
When they had been living together, they had   
stayed up at night drinking on occasion, and every time   
John would end   
up looking like a corpse, while Kerry would be as   
chipper as ever.   
  
"It isn't funny."   
  
Kerry's raw voice made John chuckle under his   
breath. "I think it   
is..." John trailed off as Romano stood up. His   
arrogant expression   
seemed to be glowing with energy. John leaned closer to   
Kerry   
whispering softly, "If he gets anymore arrogant he'll   
explode."   
  
Kerry's mouth twitched, fighting the smile back. As   
chief of emergency   
services she couldn't condone that kind of behavior   
from the others,   
but she also couldn't tell him stop, since she was   
tempted to do the   
same thing most of the time.   
  
"If everyone will kindly shut up than we'll get   
started..."   
  
Romano went into one of his long, typically pompous   
speeches, which did   
more to glorify himself and denigrate the department   
heads under him   
than actually accomplish any real business. Kerry   
drowned out his   
talking, knowing she'd get the real working details in   
writing later.   
The throbbing in her skull didn't help, either. And   
she thought she   
heard a soft beeping sound...   
  
She checked her pager. No, it wasn't that. Beside   
her, she noticed   
John doing the same thing. Not his either.   
  
"...the new equipment for Radiology has finally   
arrived," Romano was   
saying, "so I trust that will satisfy that department's   
needs for the   
rest of the year? Remember, we're a hospital, not NASA   
mission   
control. Moving on to toxicology..."   
  
Other doctors, noticing the sound, were also checking   
their pagers, but   
no one seemed to find that it was theirs.   
  
Kerry looked around, a faint concern rising. She could   
feel the hairs   
on the back of her neck bristling. That always meant   
something was   
wrong...   
  
"Dr. Weaver, am I boring you?" Romano, annoyed at the   
lack of   
attention he was receiving, focused on the easiest   
target.   
  
Wait, that wasn't the sound of a pager, Kerry   
realized. She'd heard   
that sound before, but not since Nicaragua...   
  
Oh, Good Lord, no...   
  
Praying she was mistaken, Kerry quickly bent over and   
peered under the   
table.   
  
"Are you still drunk?" Romano demanded.   
  
Kerry glared up at Romano, leaving no room for   
arguments. "Robert,   
don't argue, just evacuate the hospital and call the   
bomb squad!"   
Kerry sat her crutch on the table. "Carol, get me a   
flathead   
screwdriver and a set of surgical tools. NOW!!"   
  
Carol, recognizing the urgency in her voice, rushed to   
obey. Romano   
started to protest as Peter pushed him out of the room   
with the others.   
  
Kerry crawled under the table and laid under the   
Russian XD-78. She   
recognized it as one of the experimental models   
developed by the KGB   
during the cold war. If it went off inside the   
hospital, the death toll   
could be enormous. Who could have planted it, and   
why...?   
  
"Do you know how to diffuse it?" John set the surgical   
tray beside her.   
  
"Maybe," she grunted. Kerry took the screwdriver and   
began removing the   
casing. "John, get out of here."   
  
"I'm not going to leave you here." John believed in   
Kerry, and her   
abilities. He knew, from their talks when he lived with   
her, that she'd   
traveled the world extensively and had many unusual   
experiences. She'd   
never mentioned any ordinance disposal in her past,   
but...if she said   
she could defuse this thing, then he had no doubt that   
she would.   
  
"Fine..." Kerry didn't have the energy or the time to   
argue with him.   
She dropped the screwdriver and slowly lowered the   
long, thick casing,   
making sure that there were no triggers around it. "All   
right, I need   
you to hold this up and don't drop it."   
  
John scooted closer, taking the casing nervously. He   
could see the   
wires attached to the plastic, and became afraid of   
what might happen   
if he let it go.   
  
Kerry felt the sweat trickle down her back, acutely   
aware of how long   
it had been since she did anything like this. The   
tricky part was to   
disconnect the detonator without tripping the...   
  
Wait a minute. What was wrong with this picture?   
  
A closer look at the timer mechanism, and what it was   
connected to,   
answered that. She reached down and grabbed a scalpel,   
gently   
stripping the large black wire. "Damn..."   
  
"What?" John asked with a sinking feeling.   
  
"I can't remember if the trigger wire is red or green."   
Kerry ignored   
the panicked look on John's face and used the scalpel   
to cut the yellow   
wire.   
  
"NO...!!!" John closed his eyes and dropped the casing,   
waiting for the   
explosion. The soft, hoarse chuckling caused him to   
open his eyes.   
  
"Just kidding." Kerry crawled out from under the table,   
not too worried   
about the pale resident. He was strong enough to   
survive a few jabs.   
  
"That wasn't funny," John scowled at her as he stood   
up. Following her   
out of the staff room, he finally asked, "Where'd you   
learn how to do   
that?"   
  
Kerry ignored him, scanning the now empty hallway with   
concern. That   
bomb had been intelligence-made, recently.   
Unfortunately it was also a   
dud, which meant trouble. Whoever was behind this was   
wanting the   
hospital empty, the only question was why. "John, go   
join the others   
outside."   
  
"Why? What's going on?" John fell into step beside her   
as she started   
to walk from room to room, examining each one before   
moving on to the   
next. Neither her limp nor her hangover seemed to   
impede her progress   
much. He had a feeling that there was more going on   
here than she was   
letting on, and he wasn't about to abandon her.   
  
"John, if you don't leave I'll put you on bedpan duty   
with Malucci!"   
Kerry glanced into exam three, knowing that would do   
the trick.   
  
John shifted indecisively, then started to walk away.   
  
Kerry began to walk briskly towards the now open   
elevator. She knew who   
was behind all of this, and wasn't going to let him   
drag her friends   
into this. Dammit, covert operations and terrorist   
campaigns across   
the globe were one thing. But now that son of a bitch   
had threatened   
the patients and staff of Cook County General   
Hospital. HER hospital!   
  
That made it personal...   
  
  
  
John stared at the numbers of the elevator until they   
came to a stop.   
Getting into the second elevator, he pressed the top   
floor. He had no   
idea what was going on but he had a feeling that   
something was off.   
  
Last night, he'd seen that Bond character come out of   
the Triaxe   
restricted area. There had been Kerry's abnormal   
behavior with Dr.   
Lawson, and today there'd been a rumor going around   
that he'd killed   
himself. Then the bomb, how had Kerry known how to   
disarm it, and why   
was she searching the hospital?   
  
The elevator came to a stop and the doors slide open.   
John stepped out   
into the hall in time to see Kerry walk inside the   
stairwell to the   
roof. As much as he respected her judgment and her   
abilities, he was   
determined that she shouldn't have to face the threat,   
whatever it was,   
alone.   
  
He had started after her when he heard the first   
gunshot.   
  
  
  
The slick black convertible sped into the ambulance   
bay, horn blasting.   
James skid to a stop, freezing as the first gunshot   
rang out, silencing   
the crowd. The effort to get out of the car and run for   
the bay doors   
was almost too much for him with his mind racing to all   
the   
possibilities.   
  
"Hey you can't go in there." The bulky hand grabbed at   
his arm even   
while James turned, punching the large chunky security   
guard in the   
stomach. The guard, more accustomed to angry drunks   
than trained   
killers on Her Majesty's Secret Service, doubled over   
and lay gasping   
on the pavement. He'd be fine, though in no condition   
to stop James   
from proceeding.   
  
James straightened his tie calmly, then entered the ER   
with   
characteristic grace. He wasn't going to have a repeat   
of Russia, not   
now when he'd gotten her back.   
  
James glanced at the elevator, then disregarded it.   
Too slow, possibly   
prone to mechanical failure, and could have been locked   
down during the   
evacuation. He dashed instead for the stairs. After   
long years of   
intensive physical training, mountain climbing, deep-   
sea diving, HALO   
jumping, and other commando maneuvers, a handful of   
flights of stairs   
presented little difficulty.   
  
  
  
Kerry lowered her crutch back down, keeping her eye on   
the stout man   
cradling his now-broken arm. His gun clattered to a   
stop on the edge of   
the roof, dangling awkwardly before tipping over and   
falling off the   
building.   
  
"What's the matter," she taunted with a grim   
smile. "Can't handle a   
crippled woman?"   
  
The man started to charge her with a fierce growl,   
unable to dodge the   
metal pole that swung up, cracking his nose. Kerry   
stepped back,   
avoiding the falling man.   
  
Not for the last time, she was grateful for the model   
of crutch she'd   
chosen. She recalled consulting with the hand-to-hand   
trainers at MI6   
for a model which could be used as a practical weapon   
in addition to   
its proper function. Then the months of intensive   
retraining with   
Kendo Masters and other martial arts experts, refining   
a fighting style   
that compensated for her disability until she was   
deadly proficient   
with it. And when, upon her retirement, Major Geoffrey   
Boothroyd, the   
gruff, irascible head of "Q" Branch, presented her with   
a specially   
reinforced version of the same crutch...   
  
She paused as the soft click of a Walther PPK came   
from beside her   
right ear. Damn, he'd lost none of his stealthiness.   
"Three people I know of still use that particular   
pistol," she stated,   
calmly. "One is a friend, and I heard Valentin   
Zukovsky had killed the   
other two."   
  
"Apparently, he missed one," Jared Feral growled. "I   
allowed him to   
think he'd killed me...much as we allowed you to think   
you'd destroyed   
both missiles in that truck."   
  
Kerry remembered the blast that had crippled her. It   
was purest luck   
that she survived at all; if both missiles had gone up,   
she would   
surely be dead by now. Thankfully, she'd been   
suspicious of Greg to   
begin with. "And much as I allowed you," she   
countered, "to think   
Greg's double-cross had fooled me. I bet that mine I   
planted on the   
second missile came as a nasty surprise, didn't it?"   
Kerry turned to   
face her captor with a mask of serenity. She may die,   
but she would be   
damned if she'd give him the satisfaction of seeing her   
show weakness.   
  
Jared's glower deepened. No doubt it had come as a   
shock to him when   
Greg's plane exploded in midair, killing him and   
destroying the second   
missile. Perhaps the only consolation to her being   
crippled was that   
Kerry had succeeded in her final mission.   
  
"Only you would resort to threatening helpless people,"   
Kerry hissed.   
"Or was that fake bomb downstairs planted just to get   
my attention?"   
  
He merely smiled that dark amused snarl that was his   
trademark. "Oh,   
it's no threat, or didn't you find the flash missile   
yet? Now move." He   
waved the gun over at the helicopter.   
  
Kerry laid eyes on the slick black helicopter with   
growing agitation.   
It resembled the Alpha Wolf that the US Air Force   
designed a few years   
back, but its build was leaner. The blades faster, and   
silent except   
for the soft whoosh of air being cut. The windows were   
tinted smoky   
grey. The underside had trap doors for something, and   
from the shape   
and size of the doors she'd guess they were weapons.   
Déjà vu, she   
thought.   
  
"What do you want?" Kerry asked.   
  
"My son back." Jared glowered at her, letting his anger   
take over as he   
raised his gun more than prepared to end it now.   
  
The blur of brown hit Jared, tackling him to the roof,   
the gun going   
off. John's hands grabbed Jared's right arm, slamming   
it over and over   
onto the concrete.   
  
"John, NO...!!" Kerry yelled, even as the sharp tug of   
the bullet   
grazing her shoulder knocked her backwards. She loved   
John like a kid   
brother, but he was no match for a professional   
terrorist. Hell, he   
couldn't even track down a negligent father without   
getting clobbered,   
dislocating his shoulder, and having his Jeep burned up!   
  
The larger man snarled at John, using his legs to throw   
the young   
resident over his head. Jared leapt to his feet,   
kicking John viciously   
in the stomach. "Let me guess," the larger man sneered   
contemptuously.   
"College wrestling?" He yanked his black leather   
jacket back into   
place and started to turn to Kerry. " Oh it seems   
you've been hurt," he   
oozed with fake sympathy.   
  
Kerry glanced down at her left shoulder where the red   
was spreading   
rapidly on her lab coat. It looked worse than it was;   
she'd taken far   
worse on several occasions. But she was much younger   
then...   
  
"Oh god, Kerry...."   
  
She glowered over at John as he stood up unsteadily. He   
was going to   
get them both killed at this rate. She had to keep   
Jared's attention   
on her, not John. "What are you going to do? Kill me?"   
Kerry asked   
quietly.   
  
"No. That would let you off too easy. I have something   
painful planned   
for you." He gripped her arm tightly and started to   
drag her towards   
the helicopter.   
  
John ignored the ache in his ribs and scrambled to his   
feet, determined   
to help his friend or die trying.   
  
Before he could take a step in Jared and Kerry's   
direction, iron   
fingers seized him, pulling him behind the roof   
stairwell door, and a   
hand clamped over his mouth. He caught a whiff of   
expensive cologne --   
something English, he thought.   
  
"No heroics, please, Dr. Carter," whispered a familiar   
voice, like   
velvet over steel. "Leave this to the experts..."   
  
Kerry limped over to the helicopter without even a   
glance in John's   
direction. If he stayed here he'd have a better chance   
of survival. She   
grabbed the handle on the side of the Helicopter and   
climbed in with   
effort. Please, whatever happens to me, she prayed, let   
John and all   
the others be unharmed.   
  
Jared left the side door open with a sadistic grin that   
let Kerry know   
just how bad off she really was. His large, dark form   
kneeled down   
behind the pilot's seat while the light helicopter   
started to rise.   
  
The helicopter dipped to the side as a new figure   
leaped onto the   
runner and pulled himself up alongside the door.   
  
Kerry and Jared saw him and recognized him in the same   
instant.   
"JAMES...!"   
  
Jared snarled, aiming the gun at James and forgetting   
about Kerry.   
  
Her already simmering anger flared into life, using her   
crutch to crack   
his right arm. Jared yelped loudly as James climbed   
into the   
helicopter, punching him across the jaw. His skull   
cracked against the   
fuselage, and he slumped, unconscious.   
  
James leveled his own gun and held it to the pilot with   
a smug grin.   
"Set it down."   
  
The pilot glanced out the window subtly at the hospital   
far below them.   
Even through the hangover she could feel that the pilot   
was up to something.   
" James..."   
  
The helicopter tilted sharply to the left, sending   
Kerry out the open   
door. James lunged to grab her but missed, losing his   
gun in the   
process.   
  
Her hand let go of her crutch, snatching at air for   
something to hold   
onto. The sudden jar to her shoulder as she clutched   
the runner for   
dear life nearly caused her to just let go. Pain hit   
her body wave   
after wave, her left arm unable to hold her for long.   
She fought   
against the harsh wind current caused by the blades   
until her right arm   
was wrapped around the runner.   
  
She could feel conscientious slipping away, her   
strength not far   
behind.   
  
  
  
James found himself hand to hand with the heavy pilot.   
He couldn't help   
letting out a soft groan as the pilot clamped onto his   
windpipe and   
slammed him with one meaty fist into the front window.   
He grabbed the   
thick arm, trying to pry it from his throat before he   
strangled. His leg kicked   
out, making contact with the pilot's nose.   
  
The pilot growled, letting go of the steering grips and   
shoved his door   
open. Bond slammed a fist into the pilot's already   
bloody nose, making   
the man loosen his hold. Grabbing the handles attached   
to roof of the   
vehicle, he swung forward, kicking the meaty man out of   
the helicopter.   
There was a rapidly fading scream, punctuated by a   
faint, wet 'thump'.   
  
James settled into the pilot's seat and leveled the   
helicopter. "Have   
a nice flight," he muttered wryly. Craning his head   
about, he tried to   
spot Kerry on the runner...   
  
A strong arm wrapped around his throat, pinning him to   
the seat. "I   
intend to," Jared growled, and yanked his arm hard   
against James   
throat. James struggled desperately, but from this   
position, couldn't   
break the chokehold. His vision began to turn grey...   
  
A soft click echoed through the helicopter with   
deafening effect. "Let   
him go." Kerry's voice was hoarse and tired. Her body   
shaking slightly   
with effort to stand there. But her eyes were as hard   
an narrow as the   
barrel of Jared's gun held firmly in her hands.   
  
Jared grinned darkly and flexed his left arm. A sharp   
knife slid into   
his hand...   
  
....and fell to the floor against the two muted   
whizzes. Kerry noted   
idly to herself that her shot placement was still   
exceptionally tight.   
A perfect double-tap kill, even after all these years,   
she thought with   
satisfaction.   
  
James shrugged the body off and started to circle   
around the hospital   
for another pass. He needed to get Kerry some help.   
  
Kerry leaned against James seat. "Jared's planted a   
flash missile   
somewhere inside the hospital," she said urgently.   
  
James sighed, it looked like getting Kerry medical care   
would have to   
wait. She was the only agent close by with knowledge of   
the flash.   
  
  
  
Kerry stood next to James wearily. She would trust the   
guy with her   
life, and she had on many occasions, but right now   
she'd feel a lot   
better if she was doing this herself.   
  
Thank God her first guess about the missile's location   
had been   
correct. The Radiology department's walls would have   
shielded the   
missile from thermal or radar scans. Even so, if   
Romano hadn't made a   
big deal about the new equipment, she might not have   
guessed...   
  
James laid the curved panel on the floor with a grin. "   
Now what?"   
  
Kerry ignored him and reached into the gap. Tugging one   
end of the red   
wire free, and replacing the end into the data card.   
The card let out a   
high pitched siren before starting to beep. Kerry took   
hold of the   
orange wire next and slide the end into the other side   
of the data   
card. This time the card let out two long beeps then   
went dead.   
  
"All right, it should be safe to remove the virus,"   
Kerry said   
nervously. She'd never worked with the American version   
before and even   
though the mechanics were close to the Soviet and   
English versions,   
there were still a lot of differences.   
  
She glanced over at the blueprints she'd stolen with   
disgust. They did   
her no good without the decoder.   
  
James began to unscrew the cap at the head of the   
missile, letting it   
fall to the ground, while he slowly pulled the small   
glass vial out.   
  
Sgt. Russell took the vile with excruciating care, and   
placed it inside   
the cold metal storage box.   
  
James meet her eyes. "How long before it goes off?"   
  
"Fifteen minutes." Kerry stood up with his help. "I   
can't stop it, he's   
removed the abort option."   
  
James studied her. "But you have an idea."   
  
Kerry nodded reluctantly. She had an idea. One that   
might get them both   
killed in the process, but it was still an idea.   
  
  
  
Kerry was thankful to John for giving her that morphine   
as the   
helicopter cut through the brewing storm. The now dark   
gray clouds   
standing out against the crackling sky. The atmosphere   
was thick with   
unfallen rain and building rumbles.   
  
She carefully reached into the gap, taking out the two   
screws holding   
the silver canister in place. Her hand held it tightly,   
and removed the   
two screws. She was sure there were triggers around it,   
that was one of the   
standard features. Her shoulder still ached sharply,   
and she wished   
she'd had time for more John to suture it properly,   
rather than   
settling for a pressure bandage. But too many lives   
were at stake for   
her to play it safe.   
  
She began to slowly lift the canister up, pausing after   
a few inches.   
"James, do you have any gum?"   
  
"No. Why?" James asked as Kerry lowered the canister   
back down.   
  
"Damn." Kerry started to rack her brain for another   
idea. If she lifted   
that canister out it would set off the secondary   
explosives.   
  
A hand thrust out in front of her face.   
  
Kerry grinned and took the foil wrapped gum. "Thanks,   
Sergeant."   
  
"Kerry, I don't mean to seem down in the mouth, but   
shouldn't you be   
worrying about the bomb." James watched Kerry pop the   
stick of gum in   
her mouth and lift the canister back up.   
  
She slid the foil down in between the walls of the   
canister, then   
reached over and placed the Sergeant's hand on the   
canister. Taking the   
now-chewed gum from her mouth, she split it into two   
pieces, and   
pressed one piece into the top of the foil holding it   
in place. "Pull   
it out...slowly."   
  
The tight-lipped Sergeant hoisted the canister out,   
inch by inch until   
it was free of the hole.   
  
Kerry used the second piece to hold the bottom of the   
foil in place.   
  
"We're approaching the lake."   
  
"It's ready, but the initial explosion will effect a   
radius of a   
quarter of a mile." Kerry placed the canister in the   
foam stuffed case   
and locked it.   
  
"How much longer do we have?" James asked.   
  
"A little under three minutes." Kerry collapsed onto   
the right-hand   
seat, unable to force herself to do anymore.   
  
James slide the left-hand door open, the helicopter   
coming to a hover   
over the lake. Stepping out onto the runners, he and   
the Sergeant   
pulled the missile to the edge of the door and off into   
the water   
below.   
  
"Fire in the hole!" James screamed out. "GET US OUT OF   
HERE!!"   
  
The water under them started to race by as the first   
buildup of the   
missile started to hum around them. He   
sat back in the seat next to Kerry's and gripped the   
seat. The shock   
waves coursing through the air under the intense   
explosion that sounded behind them.   
  
The pilot made a noise of frustration as the steering   
wheel began to   
shake violently, the helicopter tilting and spinning   
from side to side.   
The singed flames engulfed them...   
  
  
  
Kerry eyed Romano as he walked into the room with   
barely contained   
rage. He'd spent the last four hours dealing with every   
known branch of   
law enforcement and government offices there was. FBI,   
CIA, MI6,   
Interpol, probably even the IRS for all she knew. "You   
mind telling me   
just what the hell you dragged MY hospital into?" he   
demanded, leaning   
over her hospital bed.   
  
"I didn't drag it into anything." Kerry narrowed her   
eyes darkly. She   
had been shot, thrown out of a helicopter, still hung   
over, and been   
threatened with a bomb. She was in no mood to deal with   
an arrogant   
little prick who thought the universe existed for him,   
and him alone.   
  
Romano tinted red as he prepared to cut into her.   
  
"That reminds me..." M interrupted firmly, "...I have   
a check here   
covering the, ah,...damage done to the hospital." She   
handed him the   
check, enjoying his shocked expression. "That does   
cover everything,   
doesn't it?"   
  
Romano forced a smile with understanding, "Yes it   
does." He slipped the   
check into his pocket, adding, "If you ever need to   
borrow Kerry again,   
please feel free. County would be happy to help you out   
in anyway it   
can."   
  
They stared at each other with cold cheerfulness, both   
knowing the   
other one to the core. Romano walked out without   
another word,   
unwilling to acknowledge her.   
  
"Can I talk to Kerry alone?" James asked, stepping   
forward.   
  
M glanced over at James, softening a little. She knew   
how much they had   
cared about each other. "Of course."   
  
James waited until M had left to heave himself up on   
the table next to   
Kerry. "I've talked to M and she's giving me a week   
off. I thought we   
could go to..."   
  
"James..."   
  
He looked over at Kerry with dread. The only other time   
he'd heard that   
tone was the day she'd called off their engagement. "I   
won't let you   
push me away again." He clenched his hand, trying to   
stay in control.   
  
"It would never work. Your life's in England."   
  
"So's yours." He wasn't going to lose her again.   
  
She shook her head gently. "Not anymore. My life's here   
now." Kerry   
turned pleading eyes on him, asking him to just   
leave it alone, and walk away.   
  
"You can come back to MI6," he insisted. "Perhaps not   
in field work,   
but your talents are needed."   
  
"You're right," she said quietly, listening to the far-   
off disturbance   
of Dave Malucchi arguing diagnoses with Cleo Finch.   
They sounded more   
like squabbling children than medical   
professionals. "They're needed   
here."   
  
"Kerry..."   
  
"James," she interrupted, laying a hand on his   
cheek. "This isn't   
about the Service, it's about us. I do love you, but   
I'm not the same   
woman you once knew. The world has changed, and so have   
I."   
  
Kerry got off the table, careful not to jar her arm   
anymore than she had to,   
and faced him. "I know you're accustomed to ending your   
adventures   
with the girl of your dreams in your arms...but not this   
time. I've   
got too much work to do, keeping this place from falling   
apart."   
  
James gazed sadly into her eyes, realizing she was   
serious, then   
acknowledged her sad smile with one of his own. "A   
gentleman always   
bows to a lady's wishes," he admitted with good grace.   
  
"Goodbye James," she said, and walked out of his life   
once again.   
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
